


Words Don't Come Easily

by tinknevertalks



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 4, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinknevertalks/pseuds/tinknevertalks
Summary: Helen gets a peek into the inner workings of Nikola's mind.





	Words Don't Come Easily

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of the Teslen Appreciation Week - Letters. It's sappy, and self indulgent, and I hope you all enjoy at least some of it (if not all of it).
> 
> Title comes from 'Baby Can I Hold You' by... Well, I know the Boyzone version, though I think it was originally sung by someone way cooler.
> 
> And, as usual with my longer fics, my eternal thanks to Rinari7, who knows more about dancing than I do, and has the patience of a saint when it comes to my writing. :D Thank you lovely! <3

She didn’t know where he got the idea, and she couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not, but a certain vampire of her acquaintance had taken to leaving post it notes all over her office, her bedroom, the library, the kitchen, and Henry’s lab (neither she nor Henry could quite figure that one out). They ranged from innocent enough (she found them in the kitchen and the lab), to incredibly sappy (the library had a few of them), to downright lascivious (her office, her bedroom, her bathroom mirror).

_T is for tannins, your tongue tastes like tea._ She found that on the lid of her favourite tea pot.

On her shoes for the day, was another paper. How he managed that (or even why he chose her shoes), she didn’t know. _D is for drenched, how you are around me. (Don’t deny it, I know the truth)._

_X is for xanthocomic – I love your blonde curls._ Helen read that one after a shower, and would have had vengeance (good vengeance, they both would be satisfied) if the next note hadn’t been so… sweet.

_Zeitgeber. Read into that what you will, but you have definitely given me time._ On her clock, next to her bed. It was adorable, but the placement was all Nikola.

There was one on the inside of the door to the library. _I is for intelligent, which you are. And that’s sexy._

_W is for wicked, when you clench around me._ This was on the vampire restraints that had somehow found their way to her bedroom.

_Kudos to you and your selection of knee high boots. Especially these._ A yellow square on her brown leather boots, the ones that laced up the front and zipped part way up the side. They were her adventuring boots, the ones that went to the last Praxian stronghold.

_Brazen. Think anyone would notice me under here?_ That was on her desk. (She did a quick check – he wasn't there, more’s the pity, but there was definitely room enough for him.)

The notes stopped for a few days, the same few days that they weren't really speaking to each other – he'd said something she didn't agree with and suddenly it was the Cold War all over again. After two and a half days, Henry had locked them in an elevator and told them to sort it out. A day later, there was one on her bedpost.

_E is for elevator, and echoes, and ecstasy. You look hot when you climax._ She'd fallen back into bed reading that one, rolling her eyes and laughing. Who said 'climax' anymore?

\--

_S is for sacrilegious. I'm sure taking the Lord's name in vain counts._ She flipped the note over, after taking it off a book in her personal library. _You can keep calling me God though._ Helen wanted to imagine him hating that note, for all of two seconds, when the next time they were intimate she called him Niko. Maybe his demotion from godhood would dismay him, but the possessive kiss and the way he growled her name soon corrected her fallacy.

_Nickname – keep it, use it, groan it, just never stop saying it._ It had been on her pillow, the morning after. Over breakfast, in the small kitchen of the staff wing, she said, “Pass the tea, Niko,” as she spread marmalade onto her toast, surreptitiously watching his smirk mutate to a smile.

\--

The note on her shoulder was short. _Mine._ That was the spot he’d kiss in the morning. It found its way back into Nikola’s room, onto the pillow next to his. Neither mentioned the smile she had drawn next to the word.

One had appeared on a picture she had framed, _Yours_ , covering Nikola’s face.

\--

_V is for vixen. Tell me, did that dress stay up by magic?_ Somehow, in the ruins of Praxis, a few of their old ways carried on. Invited by Garris, the members of the Sanctuary had helped celebrate the new year with their neighbours. Helen remembered the way Nikola’s eyes darkened when she entered their entrance hall, how he lingered behind her, the way he counted ever freckle on her shoulders as he escorted her. All night he watched her, until they could take no more and slipped away.

\--

The globe in the library was the next place she found a note. _Holiday here? It’s beautiful in springtime._

The break she had when Nikola visited the surface was short lived, which cheered her up immensely – she'd become accustomed to finding the ubiquitous little notes, small yellow squares of inherently Nikola thoughts – as a picture arrived in her personal email. How Nikola had the time to take a picture whilst helping Declan and the London Sanctuary with their latest energy problem, she didn't know. 

_Astounding, isn't it? We circle that star, see it every day, and yet we're still amazed at the colours of the rays in the morning._ The picture of London's skyline at dawn both broke her heart and filled it with wonder, the clouds dark against the golden orange sky. _We should be home soon. You can kiss me when I come through the door._ Helen shook her head to no-one, laughing softly.

She kissed him in her office. He never specified which door.

\--

_P is for puzzle. How did you get this down here?_ She pressed a few of the ivory keys on the piano, smiling as her fingers ached to play. Sitting down, she soon settled on a song, the melody reverberating through her. So engrossed was she in the music, she didn't realise she had company until her final notes melted into silence, and a kiss had been placed on her shoulder. Looking over to her left, she smiled at him, holding up his note and tapping the side of her nose.

Soon enough, another note appeared. On her night stand, next to her lamp, _Fingers sore after that workout?_ On the other side, there was more. _I could suggest a few exercises._ “I bet you could,” she murmured, grinning, collapsing into bed.

\--

_U is for ubiquitous. Your scent is everywhere._ She wasn't surprised that he could do that, but to be able to smell her down by the waterfall where Sally lived? Helen would visit when she needed a bit of calm, or a bit of insight. It was also where she'd found the little, yellow note – on the stone where Sally would bask and Helen would dip in her toes. Sally had sent her an image of Nikola touching the water, him smiling as she surfaced and the double tap to the side of his nose as he left his note. The warmth in the whole mental message happily suffused every cell in Helen's body.

_Jasmine. That's all I could smell after the source blood._ Her perfume bottles stood guarding the little note, whilst tiny star shaped flowers curved around the J of jasmine. That had been her scent of choice at Oxford, until lilies had lured away her olfactory affections. Since travelling back to 1898, she had reacquainted herself with the aroma, and doubted she'd change anytime soon.

\--

Down in the wine cellar, arrows on post its pointed her to a bottle. _Red this evening?_ Her eyebrow rose as she pulled out the bottle. It was another bottle of the '45 Bordeaux, like the one he had dutifully emptied to put his de-vamper in, all those years ago. Licking her lips, she held the bottle up – it might have a post it on, but she wanted to taste it this time, so examination was crucial.

\--

_Craving something?_ Next to the remnants of her birthday cake in the fridge. Warmth pooled in her lower abdomen, a Pavlovian response to the little, yellow square. Suddenly she didn't want the Victoria sponge but him, his quiet footsteps through the kitchen announcing him next to her shoulder, as if he’d been waiting for her in the shadows of the room. His hands caressed her waist, pressing every one of her metaphorical buttons. Turning in his embrace, Helen almost launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him as she pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands travelled to her arse, holding her against him as his kisses moved along her jawline, their unsteady pants filling the air in the small kitchen. Against the fridge, Nikola satisfied each longing desire they both held.

\--

The note on the library door was a command. _Quiet!_ In a hidden corner she found him, her face flushing in anticipation when she saw the lust in his eyes. He was sat next to a small table, bathed only in the light the lamp afforded, jacket off, shirt sleeves unbuttoned and rolled to his elbows. Smiling devilishly, he held a finger to his lips. Licking her lips, Helen walked toward him, that ever-present warmth pooled in her lower abdomen waiting to ignite. Finding nowhere to sit but his lap (and really, it was no hardship), she perched demurely on his knee, internally groaning when he dragged her body flush against his. The gauntlet had been thrown and Helen was damned if she’d break first.

But oh, his hand on her knee, and his breath hot on her neck? She grinned into the darkness as that hand trailed further up her thigh.

\--

_Green really isn’t your colour._ Helen couldn’t quite figure that one out, left as it was on a work diary in the lab. There wasn’t much green in her wardrobe, and she didn’t have green in her rooms. It was only as she closed her bedroom door that it struck her.

Today was Nikola’s rebirthday, the anniversary of his revamping by Afina’s blood. Taking the note out of her pocket, she reread his missive. For her, it had been over a century since that adventure, but she still remembered the fear that had struck her ribs as the laser hit Nikola, the unreserved need to get to that blood, the way her heart had pounded when he threw Afina off her. He had been so persistent in his appraisal of her envy, in decoding all her actions, that he’d almost missed the way she’d held his hand.

Clung to his hand.

She wasn’t the last of The Five any longer.

If he had thought her jealous (she had been, a little, but it wasn't something she would've admitted to at the time), it was a small price to pay.

\--

The training room, bright and open with a wall of mirrors opposite the windows, had a stereo in one corner and a treadmill and punching bag in another. When she was alone she'd punch out her frustrations, or run until her whole body ached. The note had been stuck on a mirror, the word wavy along an invisible line. _Oscillate with me._ Shaking her head, she turned to the sound of footsteps, smiling as she did. “And what if 'oscillation' isn't what I had in mind when I came here?”

He smirked as he took her into hold, one hand grasping hers, the other on her shoulder blade, her hands finding their place. “You wouldn’t be dancing with me now.”

Her eyebrow quirked. “We’re not dancing, we're just in hold.”

He crushed his upper body against hers, his hand on her shoulder blade propelling her toward him, as if to tango rather than to waltz, as she had expected. Without music, he began, rocking back and forth with one knee bent. Helen followed, her back leg hooking with his. They were old steps, learnt when she visited Argentina for a symposium during the early 1960s. She didn't know where or when he learnt, but they fit together. Swaying, they didn't travel around the room, but stayed firmly ensconced in their bubble, dipping low as if they shared one mind, her leg hooking over his hip as they turned on the spot. “Correct me if I'm wrong but this is dancing,” he murmured in her ear, his nose nuzzling her hair.

Her chuckle was dark, throaty. “This?” Their hips moved together as they danced. “This is foreplay.”

Dipping her over his arm, he growled as her calf caressed his thigh, anchoring herself to him. “Why are we still here?”

Her chest flush against his, one hand resting on his arm, their feet tapped together before their legs tangled for another hook. “Anticipation,” she replied, touching her forehead to his.

\--

_L is for love._

That was it, all that was written on the twice folded yellow note. It was battered, and creased, as if it had been carried everywhere, waiting for the right time. She’d found the note in the pocket of his shirt after she’d put it on, the first thing to come to hand that morning. In these quiet moments, where they’d read in bed whilst he played with her hair, or vice versa (he was almost kitten-like when she’d card her fingers through his spiky locks), or when they’d wake in the cool, morning light, his almost electric, zingy scent would permeate the air. It clung to everything, and all she could smell was him, calming her quicker than tea in her favourite cup. Asking him about the note should have made her heart beat erratically, but that enveloping aroma and the shirt on her back kept her relaxed.

She turned to him, note held out gently between thumb and forefinger, not wanting to further damage the little, bruised confession. “Nikola?”

“Yes? Oh…” He noticed the paper, and smiled sheepishly. “Forgot to take that out…”

“Oh?” Her head tilted.

He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You weren’t meant to find it…”

Now her brows furrowed. “Why?”

Not looking at her, he admitted, “The last time I mentioned love I set my brainless vampires on you and got a hand through the chest. Didn’t really want a repe—unf!” Lunging across the bed and kissing him soundly stopped the flow of words. It was a strategy she had employed on more than one occasion.

“I love you,” she told him as she pulled back to look deep into his eyes, clenching the note in her hand.

His eyes widened minutely, before he confidently held her face and kissed her again. Her toes curled as his tongue played with hers, his hands sliding into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you too,” he murmured against her lips.


End file.
